Unwillingly Wed
by Self-san
Summary: Opposites. Violent and not so violent collisions in all forms of relationship. Spock. McCoy. Drabbles. Possibly AU. Possibly genderswap. Possibly unrelated.
1. As a Man

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Star Trek XI, never have, never will. Though I do love the idea of Spock/McCoy…

* * *

Being the 'wife' of a desert dwelling alien wasn't so bad.

Sure, Leonard could hardly understand what Spock said, wasn't used to living in the desert, and just recently was deemed okay to untie from the bed but…

Ah, hell, who was he trying to kid? It sucked.

Lifting up a hand to shield his eyes as the door to his and Spock's dwelling was swept open, allowing in the harsh heat and light of Vulcan, Leonard watched as the cloaked figure of Spock stepped inside. The tall, thin man brushed aside the fabric protecting his face from the sand and quietly shut the heavy stone door behind him.

Len blinked at the large, olive green decorating the pale expanse of his husband's cheek and though, huh, someone actually had the balls to stand up to the frightening might of Spock?

His well trained eyes traced the perfect contour that only could have been left behind by a fist.

Yes, it seemed so.

Len fought off the urge to stand and go to Spock. The very prominent, very loud doctor in him screamed that he go asses the damage but the other, almost broken part of him said that he'd get The _Look_ and a harsh fucking that night if he stood without being told.

Len swallowed dryly. Maybe he should stay in his seat.

He covered a wince and crossed his arms at the thought of the rough sex his loving mate put him through, barely giving him time to heal in between round, settling to watch as the Vulcan went about hanging his sandy coat, his crocheting forgotten in his lap. He stayed quiet, even when Spock took five slow steps to were Leonard sat at the stone table that jutted from the floor.

Len barely kept his cool. He took slow, even breaths as Spock got closer and closer and then was standing above him. His heart beat loudly in his throat and Len didn't met Spock's dark, glittering eyes preferring to focus on not panicking.

Len flinched when Spock offered him his hand, two fingers extended.

Damn, even if the alien did move slowly for Len he could still startle the hell out of the human with his unpredictability.

Staring at the long, thin fingers Len traced the tiny veins with his eyes before he slowly extended his own hand, first two fingers extended.

He slowly tapped them against Spock's and could see as the other relaxed.

Len almost did too.

He was glad he didn't when Spock hooked his fingers with Len and tugged him to his feet.

Len's shoulders tensed and dread coiled in his gut but he followed the other to the bedroom, a plain room that housed a large fur palate and Spock's fire-pot. Rugs decorated the floor and Len was keen enough to realize that they likely came from Spock's human mother, a woman who he knew was called Amanda.

Spock waved a hand at the neat bed and Len froze, his eyes closing in defeat. Slowly, he made his trembling hands pull his tunic over his head and his fingers undo the tie holding his leggings up. Spock was suddenly before him in only his loin cloth and Len flinched away as Spock grabbed his hands, stopping him from going any further.

Spock made an impatient sigh at the back of his throat and said a few alien words as he pulled Leonard to the bed.

Len blinked when Spock jerked the covers back and climbed in, pulling him with him. Still clothed. What?

Len fidgeted and Spock sighed, pulling the covers up over them and laying his dark head on Len's shoulder, his arms wound tight around Leonard's stomach.

His eyes fluttered shut, his breath coming in hot puffs against Len's collarbone.

Well, Len thought shakily as he fought to calm down from his earlier sex-scare, maybe there was a God after all.


	2. As a Woman

**Disclaimer**: I do not, nor will I ever own the characters of Star Trek. This story is purely for my entertainment and in no way am I attaining anything of monetary value for the production of this piece.

**Warning**: gender swap! jealousKirk! wifeMcCoy! AU!

* * *

"I hate you," Lenore McCoy growled as she scratched out her official signature on the padd. The captain of the _Enterprise_ offered her a snort as he hauled the large boxes of medical supplies off of his small dingy.

_So many credits_, her mind moaned, calculating how much she had just spent. Oh, sure, 'Boarders paid for some of it but they didn't cover much, wouldn't cover much. Most of the time Lenore shelled out a hefty amount from her own pocket just to met the village wide demand.

_It could have been worse_, she consoled herself, trying to push down her frustration. It wasn't like she really _used_ the money very often anymore. The House didn't use Standard currency and she still had that _huge_ settlement allotted to her from her divorce…

She sighed and let it go, looking up at the sky and working to redirect her hot ire from the man working before her. Kirk really _did_ do his best to get her a good deal on what she needed so she really shouldn't take it out on him that her organization was full of fucking _stuffy, bureaucratic tightwads_ who didn't have a fucking _clue_ about what she was trying to do on Vulcan.

The hot, hideous dampness that coated this part of Vulcan left Lenore breathless and sweating, her heart pounding in her chest as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the humid air. The sun pressed through her lids even still and she shaded her face with the padd, tilting her head to the sky.

Even with her eyes closed tight as she reigned in her temper, she could imagine the floppy ferns of brightly colored reds that hung over her head, the languid flowers of blinding white and deep indigo, and the beautiful, oh-so-alien trees of orange fire that were so wide that she couldn't even wrap her arms around half of one.

Lenore smiled to herself. Even with the canopy trapping the heat from the ground like a suffocating blanket it was all so _beautiful_. At times like this, with the squawking of fluorescent-feathered birds, the yowls of small primates, and the echoing screams of the great cats that prowled the forest floor, Lenore wondered why people thought she was so _crazy_ for wanting to live on the gorgeous world that was Vulcan. And as the heat rose, hanging around her and making the backs of her bare knees slick, she grinned ruefully, acknowledging that for someone who hadn't been raised in the sickening summer heat of the South where dry-ice melted on too-hot skin and the warm earth squished muddily between bare toes, that the life she lived wasn't for everyone.

Her legs slipped wetly together as she took the steps to the hovering ship, setting the padd she had signed onto the sun-warmed deck. The metal rail that she had leaned over pressed into her naval, searing a red mark onto the tanned expanse. She jerked back, frowning at the minor burn and berating herself for forgetting the dangers of metal in the heat of Vulcan.

She stepped into the shade of the nearest tree ran an absent hand over the titanium-weave rope anchoring James Kirk's ship. The small vessel floated feet above the ground, it's photosensitive sails ruffling as they soaked up the indirect light leaking from the foliage above. The pulsing engines that propelled it from the earth displaced the air in waves, making the ship sway softly.

Kirk kept working as she watched him, his semi-pale arms straining as he dollied her shipment off of his vessel and onto her ATV in practiced movements.

His golden hair shinned, his face lined with sweat as he muscled her boxes around.

Lenore sighed to herself and wiped at her own wet face with the back of her hand, kneeling to riffle through the bag at her feet.

"Aww, and here I thought we were friends Bones!" Kirk huffed out breathlessly as he set down the last crate, stretching out his back with his calloused hands on his hips. The popping of joints filled the air as she grabbed the large canteen from the bottom of her pack and stood, bringing it to him. His teeth were a flash of white that was almost blinding as he took the offered water from her, sipping it slowly. With his shoulders slumped from the heat, his hair wet with sweat, and his face innocently grateful for the cool water he was drinking he look…_younger_ somehow.

"Do you have it?" she asked, anxious excitement coloring her words as she surveyed the boxes, mentally tallying her new inventory and wondering, hoping, _praying_ that Kirk had pulled his usual miracle-prone antics into getting her what she needed. _Wanted_.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, Doc, I got your stuff." Jim rolled his eyes in bemusement, watching as she practically danced in place at his words. She had been asking about a subdural regenerator lately and he had been lucky enough to stumble across one just…laying around.

And if a few thousand credits were found missing from his personal account…well, donating to the Cause was an honorable thing to do, right? Especially when it had Len so ecstatic, her eyes dancing and her face practically _glowing_.

So…he liked helping her out in anyway he could. So what? Who could blame him when she got so…_beautiful_ when she was happy? Jim had been her contact on Vulcan for a long time now and though it had once been something that had irked him, he now took a great pleasure in doing. Len _relied_ on him. _Him_. And sure, he was a fancy captain of a _marvelous_ Constitutional-class Starship but that didn't mean that he couldn't do milk-runs for one of the most intriguing women he had ever met.

Lenore McCoy. Doc. Bones. _Len_. Hot headed, most caring, brassiest volunteer medic on the whole star-forsaken sandpit that was Vulcan. Jim had known her ever since he had pissed off the Brass enough that they had sent him, one of the most promising sailors in the _Academy_, on an everyday _supply_ run for a backwater planet.

Jim cleared his throat, handing back the canteen.

"How's the hubby?" he asked, shifting from foot to foot when Len cast him a look that had him smiling innocently. She really was a _raucous_ thing when provoked, and he hadn't even been trying! "You could melt glaciers with that stare Bones," he told her, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against his boat. The metal was hot against his clothed back but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw a lopsided smile stretch her tanned face, her big blue eyes sparkling.

"Has it worked on you yet?" she asked, scratching at her head. It raise her light, sleeveless vest, baring her stomach further and showing off the impressive network of muscles that had Jim shifting in discomfort.

"Nope!" he said, hoping that he sounded airy. Lenore hummed inattentively, her hungry eyes on the crates.

Strands of her dark hair curled down her neck from her messy bun and Jim watched as her chapped lips pouted in thought. His own throbbed at the thought of his mouth where hers had been on the lid of the canteen.

"You staying for a few days?" Lenore asked, looking up to see Kirk watching her. He smiled at her and wiped his face again.

"Nah, your natives don't seem too comfy around me."

Lenore frowned, making Kirk want to apologize even though he hadn't really said anything wrong.

"Maybe you should try _talking_ to them," she said turning to make sure the supplies were well strapped onto her back grate. But, as always, Kirk had done a stand-up job of tying them down tight enough to withstand the journey back to the village.

"Maybe if we spoke the same _language_," Jim teased her, watching as her brow furrowed and her lips formed a question.

"You _speak_ Vulcan, Jim," she stated, wondering if he was joking with her. At his groan she blushed.

_Jeez_, she really _had_ been spending too much time with Spock. Maybe she could call Amanda and set up a lunch or something just for the two of them when she got back. Yeah, that would help.

"And yet we never _understand_ each other!"

Lenore gave him a sad glance but nodded. His response wasn't unusual. In fact, she currently held the record for spending time on Vulcan after her mother-in-law. But _still_…

"Do you want me to walk you back to the village?" Jim asked, watching her get ready to leave. His stomach gave a fluttery pang. He wouldn't see her for another three to six months unless an emergency came up.

Too long in his book.

The question made Lenore pause in checking her tires and she slowly stood, turning to look at him. Her eyes were guarded, her mouth tight. She kept her ATV between them.

"Jim, you know I can't," she said softly, trying to soften the blow.

"I'll _never_ stop offering Bones," Jim said seriously, watching her with eyes the color of Georgia skies before a storm.

"I know." Straddling her vehicle, she didn't look at him. _Couldn't_ look at him. Her shoulders were as hard as rock as she gripped the handles.

"Sail safe, _Captain_," she said in parting, turning on the engine. It roared to life, shaking the wet, heavy silence between them under the tropical trees.

"Do I ever _not_?" Jim asked himself softly, watching her drive away.

.:::.

"Spock?" Lenore asked, stepping inside the cool stone of their home. It was dim, the only light coming from the smoldering pot on the floor in the bedroom. Lenore sighed, stretching languidly as the chilled air seeped into her skin.

Spock had been meditating, then.

She peeled out of her boots and socks, padding barefoot further into the darkness. The supplies were stored away in the small hospital down the canyon next to the large road that snaked through the dry, craggy land in the mountains of Vulcan. It had taken nearly two hours over rough terrain to get back from the wet heat of the tropics to the dry oven of the mountains and Lenore was _tired_.

Shrugging out of her vest she stood in just her shorts and bra, peering through the thick shadows.

"_Adun_?" she called out again, reaching a hand up to tighten her hair-tie.

"_He did not touch you_?" a low voice growled in her ear, the normally fluid cadence of her husband's speech broken into choppy syllables and clawing accusations.

"_Not even a finger_," she assured him as he slowly wrapped his arms over her stomach from behind her. His chin rested on her shoulder, their near equal heights making the hug easily intimate. One of his hands cradled her throat, the other glued to her ribs. Spock's hot skin fully pressed to hers made her squirm as he measured her breath and heartbeat, in his own way checking to make sure she was unharmed.

And even though she was _hot_ from spending all day outside she gently rested a hand over the top of his bare arm, relishing in the touch.

She felt Spock shift behind her, his eyelashes brushing her throat as his breath ghosted hotly over her ear. His fingers moved, a hairsbreadth away from her meld-points. She took a deep breath as he touched her and delved into her very _being_, twining them together as her knees grew weak and her pulse thundered in her veins.

All thoughts of James Kirk fled.

"_Good_," was all Spock had to say about that.

* * *

_Adun_- husband


End file.
